Oh man, so there I was, tripping over this amusing little rhyme from 1921. Yeah, that’s right, way back when flapper dresses were the rage and jazz was scandalous. It’s called “Lyrics of the Links”—sounds like some kind of poetic golf saga, right? But really, the thing that got me was this bit about divots. Probably because—alright, here’s me going off again—I’d just come back from the golf course where, guess what, there were divots everywhere, like a minefield. My poor eyes.
I dunno why it caught my attention, but it struck me that even in the roaring twenties folks were dealing with the same old golfing gripes. This guy in the poem (the hero? the villain?) whacks his ball and leaves this ridiculous divot. Like, who does that? But then, and here’s the kicker, he picks up the clod and puts it back. Crazy, right? I guess not everyone back then was so polite about their turf disruptions.
Anyway—hold up, I’m getting distracted here—where was I? Yeah, seems like leaving craters on the course and strolling on as if nothing happened is a timeless golfer tradition. Who knew? I mean, replace your divot, buddy! Don’t make it into a century-old issue. But, uh, maybe I got sidetracked thinking about whether that rhyming dude ever got better at keeping the grounds neat or if he just enjoyed the chaos he left behind. Who can say?
Funny how something so small can be a universal peeve across the ages, right? Like, what else have we been moaning about since forever? Honestly, it’s wild. Anyway, this timeless tale of turf etiquette—or lack thereof—I just had to share, because it’s not often you see historical poetic evidence that the same things bugged people a hundred years ago. Kinda cozy to think about it, really.
